


Don't Need Makeup (to cover up)

by ivegotfireforaheart



Category: Girl Direction - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Smut, uhhh there's eating out and thigh fucking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 01:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11265183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivegotfireforaheart/pseuds/ivegotfireforaheart
Summary: Harry asks Louis, who's been her best friend for years, to do her makeup. She just forgets she 1) has a huge crush on Louis and 2) will now spend way too much time way too close to her.





	Don't Need Makeup (to cover up)

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Chiara for sending me the prompt ("Hold still" and "girl direction HL"). I really enjoyed writing this, so thank you <3 and to Leonie and Amber and Nadine for reading it over and encouraging me, even if it's only small, it means a lot <3 The ridiculous title is Leonie's fault haha. I hope you all enjoy!

“Hold still,” Louis mutters, brows furrowed in concentration as she applies the bronzer to Harry’s cheeks.

Harry is pretty sure she hasn’t been breathing for about three minutes now, and if she makes any further attempt at not moving she might combust, but she sucks in a sharp breath through her nose and makes a quiet noise of agreement. Louis gives a satisfied nod and returns to the job at hand, fingers gentle on Harry’s chin as she tilts her face for better access. Harry closes her eyes, her skin burning where Louis is touching it. They’re so close. Just then she catches another whiff of Louis’ spicy perfume. Fuck. Back to not breathing it is.

Honestly, she should have known the second Louis suggested it that it would be a bad idea to let her do her makeup. Harry’s still figuring out how to refuse Louis things, though, especially if they come with the promise of having her in her lap, painting her eyelids pink. 

So this is where Harry has ended up; sat on one of her kitchen chairs with Louis straddling her thighs; eyebrows, foundation, concealer, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and bronzer done (Louis apparently doesn’t have much of an order for applying makeup, shocking). It’s fine, really. It’s just that the weight of Louis in her lap is doing things to her. As is the way she can feel the warmth of her breath brush over her and the feeling of her hand on her cheek and - God, Harry is fucked.

Louis’ voice pulls her back from her thoughts. “Hand me the mascara?”

Harry blinks her eyes open and reaches behind her, accidentally knocking over some of the lipsticks Louis has stalled out. She ignores the loud snort coming from off to her side and grabs the tube of mascara. As Louis leans forward to put the eyeliner back on the table, Harry automatically grips the top of her thigh to steady her. She almost misses the way Louis’ eyes widen for a second, but the light pink tinge to her cheeks is unmistakable. 

Oh. Interesting. 

Harry flutters her lashes on Louis’ command, quietly sitting through the mascara treatment as her mind races.

“You excited for the party?” she asks. Maybe ‘party’ is a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s the word Niall has been using to describe her barbecue slash housewarming get-together, so. 

“Sure,” Louis says easily. “Wait, close your eye for a second for me?” For me. It supplies an image of Harry dropping to her knees for Louis, and really - not helping. Harry does as asked and feels the soft dabs of a cotton pad where Louis apparently smudged some mascara. 

“Looking forward to seeing Zayn again,” Louis adds as Harry opens her eyes again. She’s clearly trying for nonchalant, but Harry knows her too well to buy the act, so she gives her thigh a soft squeeze.

“Me too,” she says softly, then brightens. “I can’t wait to shock everyone with my killer makeup.” 

Louis gives her a relieved smile as she tosses the used cotton pad on the table and puts the mascara away. They should probably talk more about Zayn, but just - not now. The next and last step will be lipstick and Harry’s not ready for this to be over. She needs something else. Maybe it’s time to make a move.

“Could you contour my boobs?” Harry blurts out. 

Louis wobbles a little on her lap as she sits back and raises her eyebrows at Harry, a mix of shock and humour written over her features. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No, no, isn’t that a thing now? I think mine could look fuller, y’know?” 

Great plan, Harry. Solid.

Louis looks like she wants to protest, but simply narrows her eyes and reaches for the bronzer again, all the while eying Harry like she’s waiting for her to admit it was a joke. Well, in for a penny and all that.

“You think I should take off my shirt?” 

Louis makes a small choking noise. “Yeah, I think that might be best.” She turns back to Harry with the bronzer and brush in her hand, her expression hard to read. Harry does a small prayer she didn’t misread her earlier and pulls her shirt over her head. It takes just a second too long for Louis’ gaze to meet Harry’s again. The black lace bra had been a good choice this morning, then.

“Right, so I’m just gonna-” Louis mumbles, gesturing at Harry’s general chest area. She leans in closer, hands careful on Harry’s shoulder and waist, and Harry’s momentary smugness vanishes. A chilling heat immediately replaces it and Harry draws in a shaky breath. Louis flicks open the bronzer and Harry feels like every ridiculous movie cliché ever with all her senses on high alert. She scrunches up her nose at the first stroke of the brush, making Louis slow her hand a little. 

“This alright?” she checks.

“Yeah, just tickles,” Harry says with a small smile that Louis returns as she starts powdering again. Little wisps of her short hair fall into her eyes as she works and it makes Harry’s heart clench in endearment. Which. Christ. 

“Alright, Kim K., your boobs have been contoured,” Louis says a little later, prodding at Harry’s chest. “Happy?” 

“Very.” Harry beams at her, earning an eyeroll. She stares down at her boobs, going a bit cross-eyed as she tries to see if anything has actually changed. When she looks back up, Louis is closer than she’d anticipated, startling both of them. For a moment, neither of them move, breathe, blink. 

“So,” Louis says, clearing her throat. She hops off of Harry’s lap and starts sorting through the lipsticks. “We should definitely finish this up. Which colour do you want? I think I like the coral one.” 

Harry sinks back into her chair. “Yeah. Yeah, that one’s nice.” She tries to ignore the shakiness running through her body and focuses on watching Louis pick out the lipstick. It is nice. Just, not kissing-Louis nice. 

“I feel like this would go nicely with your nipple colour, you know?” Louis says, and... what? “Isn't that like, the ultimate lip match thing?” 

No one could blame Harry for getting absolutely stuck on Louis is talking about my nipples, help. 

“Ah, hm,” she says eloquently, her cheeks flaring. 

The next second, Louis is standing between her thighs, lipstick in hand and Harry only just about has the presence of mind to open her mouth and stretch her lips a bit for the lipstick to be applied. They don’t speak as Louis carefully traces her lips. 

“Press your lips to this,” Louis says quietly, as if she’s scared to break through the weird atmosphere they’ve found themselves in. She holds a tissue in front of Harry’s face and Harry obliges, feeling Louis’ fingers through the thin material. It’s ridiculous how it makes her burn. Harry swears she has lived through sexier moments than this. She just can’t recall a single one of them right now. That’s when she catches Louis staring at her lips. Now or never.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she mutters, dragging Louis in by her face and locking eyes for a second. She isn’t sure who closes the distance but finally, finally, Louis’ lips are on hers. They’re soft and insistent and so urgent against her own. Harry can relate to that last bit, feeling a great sense of urgency herself. She gently bites Louis’ bottom lip, strokes her thumbs over her chin, needing to feel Louis everywhere. When she leans back, Louis makes a low noise of protest. Her blue eyes are hazy and her fingers tight in Harry’s short curls. She sends Harry a heated look and climbs back into her lap. It goes straight to Harry’s gut, adding another layer of want as Harry presses her lips back against Louis’, traces her lips with her tongue, before Louis opens up for her. She tastes like the strawberries they’d had this afternoon and Harry would be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on. 

“Took you long enough,” Louis says breathlessly, pressing kisses down Harry’s neck, alternatively biting and sucking.

“You could’ve said something,” Harry retorts, twisting her neck to give Louis better access. She has to make an effort not to grip Louis’ thighs too hard.

“We got there in the end.” Louis emphasises the statement with a soft kiss to her lips. Then she grinds down and everything turns a little frantic. 

“Need you,” Harry groans, tilting her hips and moving her hands up to Louis’ arse. She’s spent years dreaming of this, but she’s not sure how long she’s going to last. She tries to stand up, taking Louis with her. 

“Yeah, fuck,” Louis answers, wriggling in her arms, “but please don’t kill us first.”

“I’ve got you.”

Louis stills, and tightens her legs when Harry hoists her back up and stumbles over to the counter. Letting go with her left hand, Harry tries to make room, shoving some plates to the side and lowering Louis onto the granite. Louis immediately draws her in with her legs, pressing their bodies close, shuddering out a breath that makes Harry’s skin erupt into goosebumps. 

She eagerly opens up for Louis’ tongue, moaning lowly when she feels Louis toy with the waistband of her black skinnies, dipping her hands in, then tracing Harry’s hips and slowly moving to the front.

“Can I?” Louis whispers, fingers catching on Harry’s fly. 

“Yes.” Harry’s not sure she’s ever responded quicker. Louis pulls her fly down and pops open the button and Harry’s brain kind of short-circuits, stuck on a loop of yesyesyes. She lets go of Louis’ arse - means to go for her face to pull her in for another kiss - when her hand catches on the rack of knives, toppling it over. Louis yelps as knives clatter down next to her, some falling to the ground. 

“Fuck,” Harry swears, pushing the knives away from Louis, “you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, come back here,” Louis says, grabbing Harry by her shirt, leaning back and promptly bumping her head into the cupboard behind her. “Jesus Christ, ow.”

Laughter bubbles up in Harry’s throat, though her fingers carefully trace the back of Louis’ head. 

“It’s fine,” Louis dismisses before she can say anything. “Can we go back to kissing, please?”

Harry nods, gladly leaning in again, but passing Louis’ lips in favour of mouthing at her neck and teasing her lips over the bit of skin behind her ear. Louis gasps, though she doesn’t stray from the task at hand, pulling Harry’s jeans down to her thighs. Harry leans back and tries to pull them the last bit off, hopping on one leg as she struggles. Fucking skinny jeans. Her heart shoots up into her throat when her foot slips on one of the discarded knives, Louis’ hands only just quick enough to catch her. They share a wide-eyed look, before bursting into giggles.

“Babe,” Louis says, her voice fond and raspy, “can we move this upstairs before one of us actually breaks something?” 

Trying to hide the furious blush on her cheeks, Harry lightly bites Louis’ jaw before drawing back and walking towards the staircase, swaying her hips. Or, well, she tries. Louis is behind her in seconds, grabbing her hand and crowding into her space as they try not to run up the stairs or to break down the door to Louis’ bedroom. 

Before Harry can start feeling self-conscious about being the only one missing some clothing, Louis is back on her, tongue insistent against hers as she pushes Harry back onto the bed and straddles her. The friction of her jeans on Harry’s bare thighs is almost enough to reduce Harry to a panting, incoherent mess. She really wants to feel Louis’ arse, though. Naked. 

She hooks her fingers in the belt loops of Louis’ jeans and tugs. “Please take them off?”

Louis sits back and obliges, taking her underpants with her in one go, revealing the stark lines of stretch marks on her thighs and the coarse, dark brown hair covering her cunt. Harry could swear there’s a tinge of red to Louis’ pubic hair as well and it should not be making her this wet. She barely gets time to recover, as Louis is already taking off her shirt, too, then reaching behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. That’s when she freezes, eying Harry a little sheepishly, the tips of her ears going red. 

“You look so good, Lou,” Harry says roughly, gently closing her fingers over Louis’ on her bra. “Can I?” she asks, echoing Louis’ words from earlier. Louis nods wordlessly. The bra comes off easily and Harry can only stare for a moment. Louis’ nipples are hard and pink and her tits deliciously small. She recognises the lingering insecurity in the way Louis is holding herself, though, knows how Louis has struggled with her body, has held her when she was biting back tears of frustration. 

Harry wants to kiss every part of her, put her mouth on every inch of Louis’ skin she can reach, whisper her love into the scars, the hair, the cellulite and the swell of her tummy. For now, she settles on shedding her own clothes, carelessly flinging her bra and panties across the room, putting her and Louis on a level playing field again. 

They share another kiss, and it feels more intimate this time, fingers tracing bare skin as they exchange soft moans and sighs. At one point, Louis brings her knee up and presses her thigh between Harry’s legs, spreading some of her slick. Harry would be more embarrassed at the sound she makes at that if it weren’t for the fact that this is Louis, the one person she trusts most in this world, the one wants to be with more than anything. 

“‘M gonna eat you out, yeah?” Harry asks, making eye contact as she kisses her way down Louis’ chest, tonguing at her right nipple. 

“Yeah, please,” Louis answers breathlessly, twisting her fingers in Harry’s hair again as Harry sinks down lower, scraping her teeth over Louis’ belly, then pressing open-mouthed kisses to it. 

“Love your tummy,” she says, punctuating it with another kiss, before moving down, trailing her nose through Louis’ happy trail and breathing in. Louis’ smell tickles her, makes arousal burn in the pit of her stomach. Harry brings her hands down, cups Louis’ cheeks and God, she hasn’t even started yet, but she’s so, so wet for Louis. She presses a kiss to Louis’ cunt, rakes her mouth through the tiny curls, and licks at her folds. A small moan escapes Harry at the slightly sour, salty taste that is Louis, mixing with Louis’ own soft groan. She circles her tongue around her clit, teasing and testing the waters. She can feel Louis’ wriggling above her, her heels settling on the small of Harry’s back as she lightly tugs on Harry’s hair. It gets the message across, and Harry licks a broad stripe from her vagina to her clit.

It draws a soft “uh,” out of Louis that goes straight to Harry’s own cunt. She keeps at it, alternating between longs licks along her folds and pointed flicks over her clit, focusing on the way Louis’ thighs flex, or her toes dig into her back.

“Yeah, like that,” Louis says, her voice high, watching Harry from where she’s propped herself up on her elbows. Harry meets her eyes, open mouth still pressed to Louis’ cunt. There’s barely any blue left around the pupils, but there’s a heavy mix of trust and lust in them that has Harry’s head spinning and her insides warming. She wants nothing more than to prove her trust to be justified. 

She sucks a bruise to the inside of Louis’ thigh, and noses at the soft hair there, eliciting a gasp from Louis. “So beautiful,” she mumbles. Louis’ fingers are light and encouraging where they trace her jaw before Harry goes back to the task at hand, licking Louis out. 

Her fingers never still, squeezing and caressing Louis’ arse, then teasing along her thighs. When Louis’ breathing picks up, cut-off “ah’”s spilling from her lips, Harry tangles their hands together, grips tightly, and keeps a steady rhythm with her tongue, going over Louis’ clit again and again. Louis’ thighs are tight around her head and Harry swears she could come just from this as everything narrows down to Louis surrounding her everywhere, and she tries not to rut against the bed. 

“H,” Louis pants, “Harry, ’m close.” 

Harry doubles her efforts, her fingers digging into Louis’ arse and feeling out of her mind with arousal herself. Then Louis’ legs are clenching around her, her fingers tight in Harry’s hair as she comes with a low, drawn-out moan. Harry doesn’t stop while Louis shakes through her orgasm, only leaning back when Louis pets lightly at her curls, making a soft noise.

“Come up here,” Louis says, sounding blissed out. There’s a fierce blush on her cheeks that moves all the way down to her chest, and her eyes seem bluer and brighter than Harry’s ever seen them. It sends shivers down Harry’s spine. She goes easily, ignoring the wetness between her own thighs as she gathers Louis into her arms and meets her lips for a slow kiss. Louis licks into her mouth eagerly, and the thought that she must be able to taste herself there is making Harry heady. 

“You can ride my thigh, babe,” Louis mumbles in between kisses, pulling back and nipping at Harry’s lips. Harry can’t help the soft sigh she lets out at that. She nods and climbs off of Louis as they both resettle, Louis leaning back against the headboard of her bed and Harry gingerly sitting down on her thigh, biting her lip in an attempt to keep some sense of composure. Louis grips her love handles, steadying her and pressing another kiss to her lips in encouragement. The slide is so easy it makes Harry gasp in surprise. 

“You’re so wet, aren’t you, H?” Louis says in wonder, her voice low. “You’re so hot, fuck, I can’t believe I get to see you like this.”

Harry whimpers softly at that and rides Louis a little faster, falling into a rhythm that has her hurtling towards the edge. They lock eyes and Louis brings her hand down between Harry’s thighs, her middle finger stroking Harry’s clit as Harry moves forward, startling a moan out of her. She loses herself in the feeling of LouisLouisLouis; her fingers and soft thigh and whispered encouragements. Harry can feel her orgasm coil in her stomach and pull at her navel and she can’t stop the low noises she’s making on every exhale. 

Of course it’s Louis’ voice that finally pushes her over the edge. “You gonna come for me, babe?” And Harry does, stomach jumping and legs spasming a little as her cunt clenches around nothing, desperately riding out her orgasm against Louis’ thigh. She’s shaking lightly, feeling high on sex and Louis as she moves into Louis’ lap to kiss her again. 

Louis laughs softly. “I can’t believe we ruined your makeup,” she says, running her thumb over where Harry’s lipstick must’ve been smudged. She stares down at Harry, a mock-stern look on her face.

“I know. After all your hard work, too.” Harry sighs in feigned disappointment. “It’s a tough life.”

“Don’t I know it,” Louis answers, still stern, but her grin betrays blissed out she really is. 

\---

“There they are!” Niall’s voice is loud and clear even over the music blaring from the speakers he’s set up.

Harry tries to tone down her grin as her and Louis saunter towards Niall, who’s holding court next to the barbecue. Every other step her and Louis’ arms bump against each other and from the corner of her eye Harry can tell Louis’ wearing a matching smile. She hugs the presents they’ve brought a bit closer to her chest. 

Niall eyes them up and down, frowning. “A housewarming party and you fuckers didn’t even bother to dry your hair? How- did you two shower together, or what?” He’s clearly teasing, but Harry has to bite down on her lip, trying to hide her happy blush. She can feel Louis shift next to her and just knows she’s burning to make a graphic comment. 

“We did,” Harry answers proudly instead. Niall won’t believe her anyway, even if probably everyone in their friend group knows Harry has been pining over Louis for years. Which was apparently mutual. Harry can still barely wrap her head around it.

Niall just cackles and waves his spatula around. “Alright, drinks are over there, and there’s snacks in the kitchen.” He glances at the presents Harry is still holding. “I’ll gladly take these from you, though.”

Harry smiles. “Congrats again, Ni,” she says, handing over the presents (or, the five personalised pairs of socks) and hugging him close. “They’re from Louis, too.” 

“Of course,” Niall says fondly as Harry steps back to let Louis hug Niall as well. “Love you both.”

“Love you,” they both echo, before turning around to go find a more quiet spot. They’re only a few steps away when Niall calls after them.

“And I can’t believe you didn’t even bother to wear makeup!”


End file.
